


some kind of release

by cosmic_eggs



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Biting, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, don't think too much about the timeline or route here ok, dragon dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_eggs/pseuds/cosmic_eggs
Summary: It was impossible not to watch Linhardt; it was impossible to resist.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/Seteth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	some kind of release

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme fill:
> 
> During the timeskip, Seteth finally breaks his long, long dry spell with Linhardt, who's been quietly lusting after him since his academy days. Since the war started, Lin's stepped up his flirting in private enough to be noticeable - "accidentally" getting too close, comments about Seteth's fighting, deliberately leaving his clothes undone just so, etc. One night, it all comes to a boiling point and Seteth finally takes advantage of what's been on offer.

From across the room Seteth watched Linhardt, and Linhardt did the same in return, gazing with an intensity that made Seteth shiver involuntarily. His eyes held such depth when you really looked into them—this Seteth knew well, because he’d found it impossible to ignore.

Years ago Seteth had watched over Linhardt as he did any other promising student: with distant affection and occasional guidance, but lacking in any personal attachment. There had been many young people like him, and there would be many to come, so it was best not to get attached. That had been the case for decades now, and should have been for the rest of his days. But thanks to Edelgard’s nonsense he’d been forced into a more long-term arrangement with this particular group.

And so he’d spent years with him now, his feelings slowly turning into something hitherto near forgotten. A desire dark, heavy. Intense.

The first time Seteth had acknowledged it was months ago, when Linhardt had asked for a private meeting in Seteth’s office. He’d asked some mundane questions about schedules and cooking duty assignments, things that would have easily been addressed by simply looking at the bulletin boards. The garb he wore was casual, certainly outside of the dress code that the former students had long abandoned the trappings of but not particularly scandalous by any typical measure.

But the top few buttons of his shirt had been undone and as Linhardt drew closer, leaning over the desk, Seteth was able to see the smooth skin that lay beneath, unmarred even after dozens of battles. The sight was, to put it bluntly, stunning, and Seteth ached to see more.

A lump formed in his throat as he forced himself to look away, forced himself to think of something else—the weather, his lunch, how to restock the vulnary supplies of a battalion, anything but how it would feel to sink his teeth into Linhardt’s flesh, to listen to him cry out with a mixture of pleasure and pain, to beg Seteth for more, _more_.

And then Linhardt dismissed himself and Seteth was left alone to stew in his lust.

Seteth promised himself that he’d never allow such thoughts again. Linhardt was young, and surely so naive that the thought of what effect he might be having on Seteth had never crossed his mind. Students at Garreg Mach could trust that the teachers and staff would ever have anything but the purest of intentions toward them, and that should not—could not—change even when their schooling had ended.

Yet it came to be that Seteth couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. When Linhardt brushed against him in the hallways again and again, too often to be a coincidence, Seteth thought of Lindhardt's hand going lower than it had, tracing the rest of his body. When he leaned over Seteth as he poured over charts of battle formations in his office, he thought of how his slim form would feel, pressed against the desk.

Really, it shouldn't have surprised Seteth so when he finally snapped. He was—not vulnerable, never that, but a part of him desired the type of comfort he had only ever felt comfortable asking of his late wife. Flayn was as always the light of his life, the center of his universe, and though reminded him of her, it wasn't enough. Knowing this brought him great shame; he’d had his fun, in his youth, and now it was time to hold back lustful whims. But still, what Seteth wanted, he knew and pretended not to, was the _embrace_ of another, the type of affection that only a lover could provide.

Who, after all, would have him in the midst of the war? Who would want to take his baggage from him, and get involved in all of the trials and complexities of his life.

It was almost impossible to number the years he’d denied himself such pleasures of the flesh. He'd not been against the thought of taking another wife, after a few decades of mourning, but he'd planned an appropriate courtship only if a suitable woman came around. This, he knew, would not be the case.

But after so many years, he had become so weak, and soon enough it became impossible to maintain his dignity with such temptation near him.

"Seteth," Linhardt asked, breaking the silence of the empty library. Seteth had been avoiding the place as of late; it seemed that Linhardt was always there, and always seemed to gravitate toward him. Not to talk, most of the time, but certainly to watch, or so it seemed. His lust as strong as it was, Seteth could barely tell anymore whether Linhardt had really been paying more attention to him or if it was a trick of his weary mind. "Where did you hide all of the books you don't want us to find?"

A reasonable question. Nothing to overanalyze. Still, Seteth replied stiffly. "Why do you ask?"

"I've read every interesting book here backwards and forwards, and half of the boring ones as well. Surely there's knowledge you've been keeping from us—from me."

"Let me know if you have something in mind and I'll look into it, but I won't make any promises. There are reasons for restricting certain knowledge."

"Such as?" 

"Curses that are best off hidden, lies that ought to be forgotten, and—"

"And books about crimes of passion, right?" Linhardt leaned closer.

Seteth could feel Linhardt's breath on his neck, and a lump caught in his throat. Surely, surely, he told himself, this was nothing. Merely a curious young mind searching for a mentor. "Something like that, perhaps."

"It's all very fascinating, isn't it? Princes and servants, teachers and students—even man and beast. So many tales of forbidden lusts."

"That— it's not appropriate to promote in a place of learning such as this."

"Isn't it? I certainly know I'd like to learn more," Linhardt whispered, voice low. When had he gotten so close? "Maybe instead you'd be able to show me."

Seteth placed his hand on Linhardt's shoulder, a simple gesture that he'd done so many times before for so many others. And yet now he felt a spark at the touch, the kind of thrill he remembered from so many years ago. He ought to resist it, and yet even more he wished to explore this desire, to follow this thread and see how it ended.

With his other hand, Seteth took Linhardt's chin between his thumb and finger. A breath caught in Linhardt's throat, coming out as a small gasp: not shock, Seteth dearly hoped, but encouragement. "You don't know what you're saying," he said. "Nor who you're talking to."

It was like Linhardt could see straight through him, like he was challenging him. Like he _did_ know, and still _wanted_ him. "I think I do know," said Linhardt, echoing Seteth's thoughts. "And if not—show me."

Something inside of Seteth snapped at that moment, and the fire burning bright within him took over. It was he who _wanted_ , and if Linhardt was putting himself on offer, who was he to refuse such a generous gift? 

Linhardt moaned his approval as Seteth's lips met his, opened his mouth obediently when Seteth's tongue prodded against them. Seteth had expected resistance, somehow— a foolish assumption, given how willing Linhardt was to accept his administations. The library was still empty for now, but Seteth was all too aware of how easy it would have been for them to be discovered.

Seteth traced a hand down Linhardt's back, coming to rest on his ass. "Very good," he said. "I'd like to draw this out, but, well—you understand."

Linhardt moaned in a sort of agreement when Seteth began to massage one of his buttocks through his clothes. Despite his slim form it felt firm under Seteth's hand, and Linhardt leaned into the touch. "Not enough," he whispered as Seteth slowly rubbed each inch of his ass, appreciating the subtle curves of his body. “Don’t make me tell you what to do.”

“Oh, even if you did I wouldn’t listen,” Seteth replied. “Besides, you sleep through half of my lectures. Are you really the sort to tell someone else what to do in bed?”

Linhardt yawned. “Not in a bed, are we? Though I wouldn’t be against that, next time. For now, though…” He paused to tug at Seteth’s trousers, bringing them down just enough to reveal his cock, already embarrassingly hard and—

Linhardt’s eyes widened as his hand brushed against it. It was— well, that was the other reason Seteth had been so hesitant to acknowledge Linhardt’s advances, let alone accept them.

“I had my suspicions, to be honest,” Linhardt said, giving Seteth’s cock an experimental tug. “But to have them confirmed so readily is…”

“Abhorrent?” Seteth offered. He’d not expected a positive reaction to his member, not when he hadn’t had a chance to warn Linhardt beforehand. It was typical of his kind, and so he felt no shame about it, but he’d never expect a positive reception from someone who hadn’t had ample time to consider whether he was even _open_ to—

And then Seteth lost his train of thought entirely as Linhardt wrapped his hand around his cock and thumbed at the tip. The cock was thicker than the average man’s, and the head was more pronounced, but evidently Linhardt was not deterred. Carefully, his hand explored the whole of it, feeling each ridge with what seemed to be glee. “Excellent,” he said. “Fascinating, even.”

“Is it?” Seteth murmured, rutting against Linhardt’s hand; who was he to deny such a generous offer of pleasure?

“I’d like to see more of it. Or _feel_ more, as the case may be.”

“Then turn around,”

“But I can’t _see_ —” Linhardt began, but stopped when he saw Seteth’s frown. “Or you don’t want me to see? There’s really nothing to be ashamed of, Cichol.”

The name made Seteth wince; he had truly underestimated the boy, hadn’t he? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and placed his hands on Linhardt’s slim hips, forcing him to turn around. Quickly, Linhardt braced his hands against the bookshelf he was now facing, and Seteth tried not to wonder if he’d done this before to reveal the secrets of some other unsuspecting professor.

At this point he had little reason to care, not when he had such an opportunity to break his dry spell, to satisfy decades of pent-up frustration. Linhardt could think what he wanted about who Seteth was, and Seteth could simply refuse to answer his questions—have him put that pretty mouth to use, perhaps.

They should only spend so much time doing this today, Seteth reminded himself once again. In one swift motion, he unfastened Linhardt’s pants and let them fall to the ground, revealing his pale thighs. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, resting his hand the small of Linhardt’s back, a touch that he could feel Linhardt shiver under. “I only wish we had more time.”

“Just do it already, if you’re so impatient,” Linhardt replied, sticking out his ass and rubbing against Seteth’s groin just so. Yet despite his eagerness, it was clear Linhardt wasn’t _ready_ , not even to take a normal man’s cock, let alone one with such a pronounced shape as Seteth’s. It was too easy to _envision_ it, to imagine the way Linhardt’s ass would resist each ridge but in time give in and accept the whole of him. The way he would moan as Seteth thrust inside of him, appreciating the pressure of his tight hole. 

But no, not now. Instead, he thrust his cock between Linhardt's thighs in one swift motion. It was leaking enough precum to dull the friction but Linhardt could still surely feel the ridges as Seteth rutted against him. Linhardt's sweet, welcoming warmth was like heaven, and he couldn't help but indulge in it.

He left Linhardt to find his own pleasure and, to his great delight, Linhardt did, fisting his cock and stroking himself in time with each of Seteth's thrusts between his legs. As a way to reward such an eager boy, Seteth offered a series of kisses on his neck, first feather-light and then growing deeper, until he started to run his teeth against Linhardt's skin. Linhardt's thighs tightened around Seteth as he did and it was all Seteth could do to not scream in pleasure as he took from Linhardt what he so desperately needed.

So enraptured by Linhardt's warmth he was that it was impossible for Seteth to consider the consequences any longer, and as he came, thick white ropes of cum against Linhardt's thighs, Seteth let his teeth sink into the soft flesh of his neck, savoring salty flesh and the faint iron of his blood—like a gift to him, a blood sacrifice to a saint.

Linhardt came soon after that, with barely a moan, then lay quiet and limp against the shelves. Seteth wasn't a particularly large man but now Linhardt’s body, limp and boneless in Seteth’s arms, felt so small against his. He sighed; knowing Linhardt, he'd want to nap, even be carried back to bed to do it if Seteth would indulge him.

He would not. "Get up," he muttered, unable to inject any real irritation into his voice.

“Make me,” Linhardt replied, yawning again. He wrapped his arms around Seteth’s waist just so, and that was the thing—that warm touch, one of affection rather than lust—that snapped Seteth back to his senses.

That was what he couldn’t get too comfortable with, lest he start getting ideas that his feelings might go beyond simple lust. He had Linhardt because Linhardt was willing to have him, and that would have to be that.

“Get up,” Seteth repeated, this time more firm. “Or I won’t allow this to happen again.”

Obediently, Linhardt dropped his arms. “You were planning to do this again? How uncharacteristically bold of you, Seteth. Oh, but I don’t mind. I’d like to see more of you.”

Seteth frowned; he could feel his face flush when he realized the implications of what he had said, but he refused to show weakness. Not here, not now.

—this he told himself, but in truth it was too late. Already he knew he’d spend night after night pleasuring himself to the memories of the softness of Linhardt’s lips and the tightness of the space between his thighs.


End file.
